


are you kidding me

by juliannabear



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Mark Cohen - Freeform, Roger Davis - Freeform, date, rent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliannabear/pseuds/juliannabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"but did you see how cool I looked when I punched him?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	are you kidding me

It was going to be a nice evening. We were going to grab ice cream, and roam the city. A nice evening.  
“Mark, I'm sorry,” Roger apologized to me.  
“All I wanted was a damn milkshake, and you go and get us banned from the place,” I yelled in anger.  
“There are other ice cream places,” Roger coaxed, putting his arm around me.  
“You got us banned from this place,” I reiterated through my teeth. All he did was smile. That cute little smile that he knows tears me apart and makes me melt at the same time. I hate him.  
It was a normal dinner date. We sat down, we placed our orders. Nothing of the unordinary. That is, until a group of young men, about our age, started making indirect remarks about him.  
“What are you getting?” Roger shoved a menu at me. I pushed it away.  
“Birthday cake blast,” I responded, no hesitation. It was my favorite flavor in the world.  
“Ah, very predictable, Mark Cohen,” he winked at me. God, I hate him.  
“What are you getting?” I asked, intrigued. He was so adventurous. He got something different every time, and even if he didn't like it, he'd finish it with a smile.  
“I think I'm gonna get the peanut butter shake,” he pointed to the picture of it.  
“It matches your hair,” I teased. He laughed and continued flipping through the menu.  
“Get a haircut,” one of the group members coughed. The rest of the group laughed obnoxiously. Roger definitely heard them, but simply ignored them. Besides, Roger liked his hair. It was long and wild, and had a sense of pride to it.  
Roger and I tried talking, but they kept making stupid “jokes” directed towards Roger.  
“He looks like a bum.”  
“Oh, look! I wear a leather jacket! I'm so tough.”  
“Probably lives in that tent city. Disgusting.”  
I'm sure Roger noticed, but his attention focused on me.  
We finally placed our orders, and were puzzled when one of the boys from the group came over with only Roger’s ice cream.  
“Wrong table, I guess,” he shrugged with a smirk.  
“Weird, thanks man,” Roger responded, sticking his hand out for a high five.  
“Yeah, enjoy,” he grinned slyly, and returned the high five. The milkshakes were in these cute, solid colored cups with paper straws. It was one of my favorite things about this place.  
Roger took a sip and immediately spit it out.  
“Fucking punks,” he grimaced. He sounded like an old man. Before I could even ask what was wrong, he was over at their table and screaming at them.  
“Hey, man, what's your problem?” Roger intimidated. However, the group of guys didn't look intimidated.  
“Cool jacket,” one of the boys said with an evil grin.  
“Yeah, it's mine.”  
“Don't make this hard. Hand it over.”  
I looked at Roger. His face looked panicky. He'd never hurt anyone, really. He looks pretty tough, but he's a total softie.  
I watched as he turned to take off his jacket. Suddenly, he whipped around and punched the man right in the jaw. A ripple of gasps and screams echoed in my head. Before one of the other group members could hit back, the manager took our names, and kicked us out.  
“I said I was sorry,” Roger said quietly as we walked back to the apartment, “it wasn't my fault.” He was right. It really wasn't his fault. I mean, yeah, he punched someone in the face. But Roger is sensitive. He tried ignoring them, but it all got too much for him.  
“You had to hit him?” I responded quietly. I'd never seen Roger like that.  
“I guess not,” he mumbled. “Did I scare you?” I thought about that for a bit. I stopped in my tracks.  
“A little. I've never seen you, of all people, like that,” I whispered. I frantically changed the subject, and continued walking. “Hey, we gotta stop by the pharmacy. Collins needs-”  
“I'm sorry,” Roger stopped. I turned around and looked at him. In the midst of the city atmosphere, he looked alone. His face looked troubled. His eyes looked desperate.  
“It's fine,” I took a step towards him. I pushed his hair out of his face. Our eyes locked for a second, but he quickly looked down. I took his hand. He looked at me, and pulled me into a hug.  
“But did you see how cool I looked when I punched him in the jaw?” he whispered. I could hear his grin.  
Oh my god, I hate him.

**Author's Note:**

> this was cheesy and trash wow okay bye


End file.
